


summertime: part i

by we_the_hollow



Series: living like we're renegades: Summer AU [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, Fluff, M/M, Magic!Stiles, Mentions of the pack, Smut, Summer AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:55:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4940470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_the_hollow/pseuds/we_the_hollow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek should have known better than to think he would get a quiet night in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	summertime: part i

**Author's Note:**

> So, as I seem to be incapable of writing in chronological order, any updates I make on this series will probably be in that format. And if by the time I have finished this monster, I feel like putting it in its proper order, then I will. Otherwise, I'll probably upload as it comes to me.

The night air is still, lukewarm. The scent of citrus fruit and the tequila he bought earlier lingers in his nostrils, an itch settled in a place he can't reach.But he won't let it bother him, not as long as he has a glass of the red wine his mother recommended in one hand, and a lengthy novel in the other.

His veins are thrumming, heartbeat sated and steady. Nights like this are few and far between. They may have succeeded in shutting down the Nemeton and therefore drastically decreased the likelihood of supernatural attacks in Beacon Hills, but the whole event has left the younger wolves with an overflow of energy, of adrenaline, that they don't know how to use up.

A few heated words have more than twice devolved into play fighting and holes in walls and doors, gashes a metre across. Derek just wishes they knew how to rest. Which, apparently they are learning, as tonight is one of the quietest he's had in weeks.

Stiles is out God knows where with Scott, after having claimed he's found the perfect blend of wolfsbane the wolves would need to get high (safely and sans homicidal/suicidal hallucinations), the girls are spending the night at Lydia's for " _much needed reaffirmation of familial bonds_ " whatever the heck that means, and the rest may aswell have dropped off the face of the Earth for all he knows where they've gone.

So. It's a night in with Shakespeare, his rattiest pjs (because appearances are only for when other people are here) and a third glass of Merlot which is making his tongue tingle and his belly warm.

The night air is still, lukewarm.

Until.

There's a thump followed by another and a soft " _Oomph_ ," and then metal scratching against metal which sets his teeth on edge. In his current sated state it takes his brain a few seconds to realise that the scratchy sound is a key scrabbling for purchase in a locked door. Said door then proceeds to slam against the wall and he startles but doesn't move. Only the pack have keys. But he's still in defensive mode, a little on edge.

Then there's a whispered " _Shit_ " and a giggle and a " _Ssshhh Scotty, we have't' be quiet or Big Bad'll blow th'house down!_ '" Derek just snorts, relaxes, continues reading his book.

Stiles is home. Apparently so is Scott.

The first smell to hit him is the bitter tang of weed, invading his senses, waking him up. His nose itches again, although not unpleasantly. And the longer the two boys stumble and stagger and lurch their way through the house, the more the smell mellows and sweetens; going through tones of honey, maple and white oak, bergamot into jasmine, into glacé cherries and crushed almonds, until it ends, distinctly, on Stiles.

Stiles who fills any room he walks into with his scent.

Stiles, indescribable Stiles with his rose pink lips and honeyed whiskey eyes, who is a wild distillation of so many aromas.

Stiles who is leaning haphazardly against the door jam, unbalanced and completely unfairly tousled hair and clothes, all shoulders and slender hips and long sinful fingers, with a dopey grin on his face.

 _Stiles_. A tart, tangy smell, overlaying the real gum rotting sweetness underneath. Derek's never really been able to describe him in a way he will understand, never quite been able to say, " _Oh you smell like dew soaked raspberries in the middle of Spring, and the vanilla you sneak into my coffee,_ " or " _Honey, like your eyes, orange like the lube we used for our first time, and every time after_ ," because Stiles smells like nothing he's ever smelled before and everything he could ever want to afterwards.

He speaks then, his voice raspy as it leaves his lips, words deliberate. "Hey Big Guy, miss me?" He can read Derek like a book and his face almost splits in two, he grins so wide.

Derek chuckles, and sighs happily, "You bet, Baby," Stiles lifts his shirt off with ease and tosses it to the other side of the room, despite the earlier fumbling his way through the house. Derek suspects he was purposely trying to wake him. His socks and shoes and belt, ( _God how does he do that?_ ) are off before Derek asks, "Where's your other half?"

Stiles completely disregards the question. "Mmm love it when you call me that," he says, words still rough but not as slurred now.

Derek smirks. "What, Baby?"

"Oooh stop I'm all tingly," Stiles fake shivers for effect, taking his jeans as he does. His chest, smattered with dark hair is reddening the closer he gets to the bed.

There's a new scent in the air now: _arousal_. It's seeping through his boxers.

"That's probably just the weed, Stiles," he says, breathing shallow and laboured now; feeling like he's drowning in Stiles' scent as he slinks closer, dropping his soaked boxers, watches him crawl onto the bed and into his lap, where Stiles' cock is continuing to fatten, now pressed up between their stomachs, leaking and hot. Derek's mouth waters and Stiles licks his lips slowly.

He puts his mouth behind Derek's ear, inhales and sighs, before saying, "Scotty won't be joining us. _Tonight_. I think I wore him out."

Derek allows himself a chuckle, knowing exactly what that means, before draining the rest of his wine over Stiles' shoulder and tossing the book in whatever direction he can. He gets his hands on Stiles' hips, fingertips meeting at the base of his spine around the same time that Stiles starts grinding down into Derek's lap, hands roving over his chest and tweaking at the piercing there as he places kisses down the column of his throat and along his collarbone. Derek moans, going boneless as Stiles works away, getting him harder by the second until he feels like he'll burst.

Stiles moves to his slack jaw, one hand now holding his head firmly in place while his mouth continues his journey and the other hand delves beneath the covers. Derek gasps, "W-wait. Wait." And Stiles stills, his eyebrows crawling into his hairline, eyes not meeting Derek's, instead fascinated, focused, on the redness of Derek's cock.

And Derek almost loses his train of thought at the implication.

"Wanna-I wanna be as close to you as I can manage," he stammers out. And that. Well. Derek can read Stiles too. And he certainly wasn't expecting that. He goes stock still, tense, eyes still locked down there, brows furrowed.

"Are you sure, Der? You really don't h-"

"I want to. I want to."

"Okay. Alright." Stiles' smile is small, but reassuring nonetheless.

Derek's new scars haven't exactly hindered their sex life, but he hasn't been fully naked in front of Stiles since it happened. And he's sick of waiting for them to heal. No more denying they're there. In a few more weeks they'll be gone anyway, and Derek would very much like to get back into their routine of full nudity before then. He smiles as Stiles shifts, all but grimacing at the loss of contact as he settles into the covers beside Derek, allowing him room to strip.

He starts with his pants: no scars there, no qualms, and a reassuring hand strokes up his thigh as he works his shirt over his head. And, having forgone underwear, Derek is fully naked in two steps. Stiles gives him a second before he's right back in his lap, lips smashing and teeth clacking and hands roaming. He finds the pillows and tosses them aside, the two of them landing with a soft " _Oomph_ ," against the cool mattress and his eyes finally, finally meet Derek's.

And that's all that Derek needs, really.

"So, so proud of you, baby. So proud," he says as one hand roams down to where their cocks are pressed flush against each other and grips them both tight, skilled fingers adding just the right amount of pressure as he jerks them both slowly, purposefully. The other hand, tracing back and forth over the three parallel scars that reach from his left shoulder to his right hip. It's a soothing motion, languid and full of intent. Derek recognises the feeling; Stiles is pulling the pain out, but he's being shushed by Stiles' mouth on his before he can even think about protesting. "I'm taking care of you tonight Derek, let me."

He shifts, then, moving down, placing kisses as he goes, stilling when he comes to Derek's hips.

And in one smooth motion, the velvety head of Derek's cock is breaching the divide between them, via the one place Derek could get lost forever. Stiles' mouth. _Holy shit, Stiles' mouth_.

The first time they did this was a fucking revelation, if he's being honest.

He always knew Stiles had some sort of oral fixation, always something in his mouth; gum, pen lids, lollipops. So if Derek thought Stiles' mouth on his mouth was phenomenal, then Stiles' mouth on his cock was out of this world.

And right now, as Stiles sinks _downdowndown_ , right to the base, Derek thinks he might have found Heaven. It'll all be over way too soon. He's never been able to hold out for long when they do this. He warns Stiles with a gentle hand in his hair, but Stiles stays there, head bobbing, tongue swirling round the slit, nose hitting Derek's stomach each time he sinks down. And it's like this, that Derek finally comes; Stiles' nose buried in the wiry hair at his base, his cock buried in Stiles' mouth, head hitting the back of his throat. He counts as it pulses, draining out of him; _one, two, three, four and five and six_ in quick succession, all the while Stiles staying there, sucking Derek for everything he has.

When he lifts his head, Stiles eyes are a little watery and he's breathless, but there's a smirk on his come stained lips.It's as if he senses what Derek is thinking.

"Nope, not finished with you yet Big Bad," he says, before surging up to capture Derek's lips in his own, tongue darting inside, giving Derek a taste of himself. Derek moans, gripping Stiles' ass, spreading his cheeks. A new wave of arousal washes over him then, stifling, as if Stiles is working up to something. Derek's got a pretty good guess, and his hole clenches in want.

"Gonna fuck you so good, Der," Stiles mutters in between kisses, words slurred and mashed as he struggles to continue kissing Derek all over and talk to him simultaneously, "Gonna fuck you so hard and wet and slow. Gonna fuck you till you cry," Stiles hands are working Derek hard again, slow and steady, grip tight at the base, twisting at the head, "And after I come? Gonna eat you out, taste myself, make you come with just my tongue. Afterwards? Gonna fuck your face, stretch your jaw out till its aching, make it so you can taste me in your mouth for a week," Derek can only moan in response, feeling himself loosening, opening up for Stiles, and clenching closed again in anticipation.

Not wanting to ruin the moment, Stiles conjures the lube from their bedside table, and Derek can hear the spark thrumming through him as he calls on his magic again to warm it up. Derek arches his hips, and Stiles goes with him, not much being said now besides the odd variations of " _You're so good for me Baby,_ " (this from Stiles, mostly) their bodies flush against each other, moving as one. He uncaps the lid, and starts with Derek's balls. He squeezes out a generous amount, and, being at this slightly elevated angle, the lube drips down his perineum and over his hole. Derek squirms a little until Stiles' fingers follow it, slicking up the area, adding more lube till he's sloppy and soaking, meanwhile his lips everywhere they can reach.

Then Stiles is moving off of Derek, kneeling between his open thighs; with slick hands, and a determined look in his eyes, he grips the back of Derek's knees and throws them over his freckled shoulders. His cock is pink and solid, mouthwatering where it rests against Derek's balls and Stiles smirks, beginning to massage them again, laughing at how it makes Derek squirm.

He tugs on his own as yet neglected cock, once up and once down, with one hand, giving it a quick coat of lube before his eyes lock on Derek's.

The smell in the air is palpable. "Ready?" he questions, not bothering with preparation, knowing well enough that he won't need it, only giving Derek time to get out the first letter before he pushes all the way in, and begins thrusting, his balls slapping Derek's ass with an obscene noise each time.

He may be going slow for now, but if Derek knows Stiles, he will definitely feel this in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a MONSTER PROJECT that has been eating my brain since the beginning of Summer, if not before. So pleeeeeease please please bare with me.


End file.
